


Shiner

by Lafeae



Series: Whump/Hurt/Comfort challenge [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-10-08 22:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: Jounouchi comes to school with a black eye, and Kaiba seems extra curious as to why.—Puppyshipping





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for a tumblr challenge called ‘Bad Things Happen Bingo’. As if I need another series lol.

Jounouchi didn’t want to make a big deal of a black eye. When he walked into class his normal amount of late, he kept his head down. It was easier to take the verbal berating and slip into his seat than it was to lift his head up and argue with Sakamoto-sensei. It didn’t do him much good anyways, so why bother?

The entirety of the maths lecture, Jounouchi wasn’t mentally there. He was more interested in poking at the rough bruising that marred his left eye, jabbing with the tips of his fingers (and his pen) until his eye flinched. It hurt more than the other knotty bruises. Maybe it was because everyone could see the eyesore (no pun intended, he said to himself).

It didn’t help that he kept catching Kaiba staring at him like a freak.

“Stick your nose where you shouldn’t have, mutt?” Kaiba asked near the end of the lecture.

“Piss off.”

“Hmph.”

Of course, Kaiba wasn’t the only one that noticed. He saw Yuugi turning his way, throwing questioning glances that seemed to triangulate between Honda and Anzu, all of whom made some half-assed attempts at talking to him before being reprimanded. Why was it Kaiba that was close enough to antagonise him? Damnable alphabetised seating...why the hell did they even use a Romanized alphabet?

And Kaiba just kept jabbing him about it. Asking him what he did. “Piss off,” only went so far.

Jounouchi wasn’t even sure what hurt worse. The black eye or Kaiba’s ridiculous pestering. Why the hell did moneybags care? It wasn’t like he was so persistent when it was a fight. Then again, Jounouchi was more direct when it came to getting into scuffles on the street. That was different. That was just going into the wrong turf or passing up Hirutani without greeting him properly. Stupid things. He was proud of those scars; it wasn’t like Hirutani ever bested him for long.

In boredom, Jounouchi rested his cheek in his hand and poked it almost rhythmically, until his eye filled with tears. He didn’t know why he did it. Glutton for punishment, he guessed.

“It’s only going to make it worse, you know,” Kaiba said. The bell for lunch rang.

Jounouchi sneered. “The hell you care?”

“I figured you had enough brain cells to know otherwise.” Kaiba left before Jounouchi could reply.

At lunch, he was happy to drift into random conversation with his friends, picking off their lunch trays evenly. They never seemed to mind. His pocket money had went towards rent this week. Someone had to keep a roof over his and his Old Man’s head. And it sure wasn’t his Old Man.

“Are you okay Jou-kun?” Anzu asked.

Jounouchi sucked the salt from his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You’re not too talkative today.”

“I just slept funny,” he said, and grabbed a bottled juice from Honda’s tray, pressing it to the side of his face, close to the bruise. The coolness was nice, even if it wouldn’t last. “It’s been gettin’ hot out there; hard to sleep when you’re suffocatin’.”

They group agreed. But there was a passive glance from Yuugi, a beleaguered smile and a pat on the arm, that suggested he knew. They all knew, Jounouchi reasoned. Otherwise he would have been strutting his scars like a peacock, regaling his heroic tale. Silence was sort of an unspoken rule with them. Anzu would still ask, just to be sure, and that was about it.

“You wanna stay at my place tonight, Jou-kun?” Yuugi offered. Kaiba glided by in that instant, sparing the smallest of looks at Jounouchi. The blond flipped him off before looking back to Yuugi, confused. “I have a fan. You’ll....probably sleep better.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks though, Yuug’,” Jounouchi said. Honda stole his juice back. Anzu proffered hers after.

“I think the heat’s makin’ Kaiba extra weird today, too,” Honda said. “He’s like...staring at the back of your head Jou.”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. “He don’t need an excuse.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

Jounouchi narrowly looked over his shoulder, catching where Kaiba sat by himself. Most of his focus was on his laptop, but occasionally he would look up at Jounouchi with a dead-eyed stare. Like he was looking through Jounouchi’s soul.

Jounouchi shivered. “I’m about t’ moon him.”

“Don’t. You’ll get in trouble,” Anzu said.

“Worth it.”

But Jounouchi didn’t. He didn’t want to give Kaiba anymore ammo to stare or be curious. Even though the black eye was probably the darkest bruise he had on his body, it wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t the only scar, either. The less questions from the prick, the better.

By the end of the day, he was ready to run out of the school. “We all going to my place?” Yuugi asked as they headed for the door.

“Yeah. Go on ahead, I’m jus’ puttin’ my stuff up,” Jounouchi said. He was already trying to cram his books into his locker. He elected to do his homework during homeroom, anyways. He needed fun to distract himself.

Jounouchi slammed the locker closed and pivoted to leave. Instead, he panicked backwards. Someone stood ridiculously close to his personal space, enough for him out his arms up to block. “The hell’s your problem?” He asked, and then realised it was Kaiba. His arms fell by his side. “Christ, Kaiba...I need t’ put a bell on you or somethin’.” Kaiba arched a brow. “What do you want?”

“What happened, Jounouchi?”

Jounouchi clenched his teeth. “None of your business, moneybags. Now, if ya don’t mind, I gotta get goin’.”

Jounouchi went to step around Kaiba, only to be forced back by a thin hand clutching his shoulder. Surprised, Jounouchi looked down at Kaiba’s pencil thin fingers as they dug into his shoulder. It was a strangely warm grip. A knowing, comforting grip, that lasted for half a second before Kaiba’s hand drifted down and nudged Jounouchi back, making space between them.

Silently, Kaiba rifled through his satchel. The touch had entranced Jounouchi enough to watch, and he was further confused when Kaiba pressed ice pack into his hand, followed by a small unmarked make-up jar. “Ice for pain. Salve for swelling. Ask the friendship girl for foundation.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Kaiba said. Jounouchi squeezed the ice pack.

Kaiba brushed by him, and Jounouchi snapped out of his trance. “The hell’s wrong with you Kaiba?” But Kaiba disappeared around a corner, almost like a ghost.

Jounouchi looked back down at the ice pack and bit his lip. None of this made sense. And no one would believe him if he told them that Kaiba had managed to somehow be magnanimous. He constantly wondered why. A prick being kind?

The ice pack was pressed to his eye. Jounouchi looked back and smiled a bit to himself. Somehow...he had a feeling Kaiba got it.

He could deal with that. Maybe.

Kaiba was still a prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! If you’d like, you can visit me on tumblr. I’m lafeae there also!


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t intend for a second chapter, but that does mean there’s a chance of a third? The prompt was Bloodstained Clothes.

Detergent was expensive. When weighing to buy it versus food, Jounouchi always picked the food. He’d rather be able to cobble more meals together for him and the Old Man than to be able to throw soap pellets on clothes.

If he needed to wash something, hot water and a little bar of soap worked, even if it left behind stiff, chalky streaks. He’d usually rubbed out the worst of the stains, at least until he could bother the lady next door for a cup of detergent which, on Sundays, she had begun to leave in the laundry room for him.

But in the mornings, when bleary and half asleep, Jounouchi didn’t care too much about what shirt he grabbed off the floor as long as it didn’t smell like beer or piss. Any white shirt was fine for under the uniform.

At least, he didn’t care until Honda batted his arm in the middle of class and asked: “Wearin’ the ketchup for lunch later?”

Jounouchi glanced down at his shirt and pulled at the hem. Little splotches hung from the collar and dripped straight down. They were browned, faded, a little gross. Could have been ketchup....or ponzu sauce. Maybe soy. He wouldn’t know until he wet his finger to taste it.

“Yeah, I’ll ya dip fries in it later, jackass.” Quickly, Jounouchi fastened the top button of his uniform jacket. “Now shut up a’fore Sakamoto hates me worse.”

As if on cue, Sakamoto-sensei asked: “Do have something you’d like to say, Jounouchi-san?”

Honda snorted behind his hand.

“Uh....no?”

“Then would you like to answer the problem?”

Jounouchi’s face reddened, and he finished fastening his jacket. “....not really?”

Sakamoto-sensei motioned for Jounouchi to rise, and he did with reluctance while quickly looking over the scribbled math problems that were pure gibberish, all the whole trying to ignore Kaiba’s mirthful laughter. Jerk had been gone for a blissful week, but of course he would be there when Jounouchi needed the extra kick in the nads.

“Shut it, moneybags,” Jounouchi hissed.

“Jounouchi-san?”

Jounouchi groaned. It was gonna be one shitty thing after another today.

—

Jounouchi was happy to go to lunch. It meant unbuttoning the God forsaken uniform and airing out the heat it trapped. If the summer got any hotter before their break, he would probably die.

Between bites, he caught Kaiba’s quick looks; as if the prick was being sly—instead, he just seemed like a weirdo. Jounouchi shot him dirty looks back, curling his nose, sticking out his tongue, and itching his eye with his middle-finger for Honda and Yuugi’s amusement.

“Seriously?” Anzu asked.

Jounouchi shrugged. “Kaiba’s bein’ weird again.”

“And...?”

“And it’s fun t’ mess with him?”

Anzu sighed. “He’s just trying to rile you up, you know. And it’s working. Then you’ll go over to him mad, he’ll insult you, and you’ll get more mad...”she waved her hands. “Whatever.”

“Sounds like a normal day to me,” Yuugi quipped.

“I ain’t goin’ over to him. I swear,” said Jounouchi, though he looked across at Kaiba anyways. Anzu glared at Jounouchi. “I really ain’t. He’s hopped over prick and went straight to creeper. Few weeks ago he gave me this....”

Before admitting anymore, Jounouchi stopped and bit the tip of his tongue until he tasted blood.

“Gave you what?” Yuugi asked.

“Nothin’.”

“You can tell us, Jou-kun.”

“Seriously, ain’t nothin’.”

There wasn’t an exact reason for Jounouchi to stop talking. At first, he convinced himself that it was because he didn’t want to admit that Kaiba was nice because his friends would laugh in his face. But as Kaiba eyed the messy splotches on Jounouchi’s shirt, the more Jounouchi realised it was purely his own embarrassment. His clothes weren’t stained with ketchup or ponzu sauce. He knew it was blood. Probably from a bloody nose from the Old Man. Something. And that meant going into the forbidden zone of his friends acknowledging his terrible situation but saying nothing.

Further more, Jounouchi considered, it meant that it wasn’t just him. The touch Kaiba gave him, the momentary expression of understanding, lingered on his shoulder and in his memory. He wasn’t alone. Admitting that Kaiba helped him for the forbidden reason meant that he at least sympathised or, at worst, empathised. Did the prick even do empathy?

“You sure?” Yuugi asked. “Kaiba...Kaiba didn’t give you the black eye, did he? Because I though it was your—,”

Jounouchi waved Yuugi off. “Nah, Nah! Yuug’, now you’re bein’ silly. Ya think I can’t take that beanpole on? Puh-lease! That wouldn’t even be a contest. Prolly break his hand on me punchin’ wrong or somethin’. Right Kaiba?”

But Kaiba was gone, and Jounouchi chuckled at his own cluelessness long enough that everyone started talking about something else. Good.

—

Gym came around near the end of the day. Jounouchi was happy to change out of his uniform for the hour, not worrying if anyone was looking at the stains because he’d be damned if he was buttoning his jacket again.

They paired off to continue the course of tennis practice—something Jounouchi had picked up enough not to lob the ball into the net. The rest of it was rather lacklustre. Near misses and chasing balls across three courts only to do it again the very next serve.

Kaiba wasn’t helping. He’d had the misfortune of pairing up with the prick ‘at random’ the coach said. Yeah right. As if they didn’t have enough problems.

“Ya don’t gotta show off ya know,” Jounouchi said after coming back for the 27th time. “I know ya got a stupid personal trainer an’ shit but ya don’t gotta rub it in.”

“Then learn to hit it back, mutt.”

“Stop tryin’ to drill it in my face, asshole!” Jounouchi weakly served, and the ball came back instantly, probably at ninety miles an hour. He avoided it, clenching his racket so hard to thought he’d break it. “Seriously?”

Kaiba rolled his eyes.

Huffing, Jounouchi grabbed the ball and threw it back to Kaiba, intentionally missing to make him run after it. Though Kaiba glided more than ran. He wasn’t exactly the picture of a perfect body. He was all legs—how long were those damn legs without shorts on?—and skinny as a twig. Without the studded shoulder pads or ridiculous coats and leather, Kaiba was just a lanky teenage boy who hadn’t finished growing into his limbs, though he was fortunate to have a pretty face. Maybe. Whatever.

Kaiba’s next serve caught Jounouchi off-guard, scrambling his thoughts and causing him him stumble to hit the ball back. He tripped over his own feet to reach every hit, but at least they were managing something that could be called a tennis match.

It was almost fun. Kaiba was almost nice; his hits were hard, fast, erratic, but Jounouchi was determined to keep up. He lost confidence when Kaiba hit a ball out of bounds.

“Ya don’t gotta play easy, either,” Jounouchi said.

“Don’t get cocky, mutt.”

“What? I mean, c’mon man. Ya whiffed that.”

“Please. Why would I do you any favours?”

Jounouchi shrugged. “Ya know there’s a mode called ‘normal’ in most games. You should try it sometime.”

Kaiba said nothing.

By the end of it, Jounouchi was happy to quickly shower off, even if it meant getting back into the ponzu-blood stained undershirt. He weaved through the locker room and kept his eyes down. The last thing he needed was more thoughts like the ones about Kaiba. He wanted to change and get going.

But his locker was distinctly missing an undershirt.

“Oh come fuckin’ on!” He groaned. “A’right! Which one of you jerks is stealin’ my clothes now?”

No one owned up to it. No matter how hard he pressed, everyone denied it. Who the hell wanted a blood-ponzu stained shirt, even if it was a prank?

One by one, Jounouchi’s classmates filed out and left him standing in the middle of a steamy locker room, half-dressed and wondering if there was someone who needed his shirt worse than he did. He grumbled in acceptance of that far out thought—it made it, along with this tedious day—easier to deal with.

Quickly, he gathered up his things, pausing at the half-used make-up jar. Right. That. He needed to give to back to Kaiba.

When Jounouchi turned to leave, he panicked and stumbled back into the lockers holding his chest.

“Shit, Kaiba! What the hell man, warn a guy?”

Kaiba raised a brow. “You’re really going to go to class without your shirt?”

“Ain’t like I got a choice. It’s sorta gone, if ya didn’t notice.” Wordlessly, Kaiba displayed the stained shirt in his left hand. “Why you freakin’ prick. I knew I shoulda hit ya with a ball you—,”

“Same night?” Kaiba interrupted.

“Same night what?”

“As the black eye?”

Jounouchi pursed his lips and studied Kaiba. Ever the emotionless cinder-block, but there was a hint of something deep in him. His lips twitched and his eyes thinned waiting for an answer that Jounouchi didn’t owe him. But he felt compelled to speak nonetheless.

“I...I dunno.”

“No?”

“Don’t do laundry all that much. Essentials, ya know? Detergents expensive an’...”

“And it’s happened more than once?”

Jounouchi shrugged. “Once or twice. Ain’t keepin’ count.”

Kaiba’s lips parted and closed; for a second, Jounouchi saw something surreal. An anaemic smile, barren of any kind of pity or sympathy. It was more than knowing, too. It was like a wordless mental connection, brain-to-brain. With moneybags, of all people.

Kaiba shrugged off his jacket and quickly unbuttoned his undershirt, shrugging it off and extending it to Jounouchi.

“What’s this...?”

“A clean shirt.”

“No shit. I mean what are you doing?”

No response. And Jounouchi didn’t really know if he wanted an answer. It wasn’t everyday that Kaiba went around being magnanimous, though it seemed have to increased in frequency.

After several moments of staring, Jounouchi took the shirt and shrugged it on. It was too long for him, and the shoulders were too wide, but it was a good fit.

“So...what are you gonna wear?”

“I have another.”

“‘Course ya do,” Jounouchi said, but that didn’t change the fact that Kaiba gave him the literal shirt off his back. “What are ya gonna do with mine?”

“Wash it properly. Actually get the stains out.”

“Gonna bring my fresh-laundered clothes to class, then?”

Kaiba dressed and tucked the shirt in his satchel. “I was thinking you should stop by the estate on Sunday to pick it up.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Do ya want this back, then?” Jounouchi asked, proffering the make-up jar. Kaiba didn’t reply and left out the door.

It registered too late that he’d been invited to the fancy Kaiba estate, even if it was to pick up clothes. Something about that made butterflies flutter in his chest.

Maybe Kaiba wasn’t a prick, but he was still weird.

That was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I say, if there’s a third part that fits from my Bingo Board, I’ll add it. Tell me what you think!


	3. Part III

Blue-grey morning light filtered through broken blinds into Jounouchi's bedroom, rousing him from sleep. It couldn't have been any later than seven, but it was humid in the tiny space.

Groaning, Jounouchi rolled over, listening to the _kree-kree-klik_ of locusts outside his window. So loud, telling him that the electric fan finally died, though he reached out and grabbed the frayed cable just for proof.

He lifted up and began to peel off his boxers while trudged to the closet-sized bathroom, locking the door. He stepped into the shower, turning on the cold water, raking the icy droplets through his hair and down his back. All of his sweat, and sleep, swirled down the drain.

This was too damned early to be up.

A loud pounding started on the bathroom door. "That you, Katsuya?" the Old Man asked, coughing and hacking. "Katsuya?"

Jounouchi unlocked the door. "Yeah. Who else would it be?"

"Don't get smart."

Wordlessly, Jounouchi nudged by the Old Man and slithered back to his room and dressed in wrinkled slacks and the over-sized, clean undershirt Kaiba had loaned him. In the middle of gathering clothes, he almost fell over.

Right. It was Sunday, and Kaiba told him to pick up his shirt.

Great.

It was either go now, or late in the evening, neither of which were good options. Though Kaiba looked like he never slept. Who could sleep in this heat anyways?

People with air conditioning, that's who.

He had to leave now if he stood any chance of making it across town, picking up his shirt, and then making it to work by one o’ clock. There was no place for laundry in that equation, he realised.

Of course, moneybags in all his generosity would make this a hassle somehow. It was one thing or the other. He might as well have taken the basket to Kaiba's and begged him for the favour. But, he didn't want to owe Kaiba anymore for this. He was two unwanted favours deep.

"Oi." Jounouchi dropped the full basket by the Old Man.

"Hn?"

"Laundry. Kiyoko has soap."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Do the laundry. I gotta get goin'," Jounouchi said, already kicking on his shoes. Footsteps shuffled up behind him, and he turned quickly, not leaving his back to his Old Man for long.

"Runnin' out on me— _hic—_ already?"

Jounouchi's face softened. "I gotta work."

"Bull."

"Not bull. I've gotta pick up somethin' from a friend an' then head to work," Jounouchi said hotly. The Old Man's face didn't flinch, and Jounouchi opened the door to leave. There was a sharp tug on his arm, enough to make him jerk away. The Old Man gripped him again, but just long enough to throw him into corner. "What?"

"What about— _hic—_ breakfast? We ain't had breakfast together in a few days."

"I can't."

"You got time."

"I really don't," Jounouchi said.

There was a wild, off look in his Old Man's eyes, one that came from still being a little tipsy this early in the morning. He'd probably started drinking at the mahjong parlour first, then carried it home. But as wild as they were, there was a sad, pleading look in his flush cheeks.

Jounouchi's stomach rumbled, and he trudged into the kitchenette.

"You're a good boy, Kat."

Jounouchi didn't reply. He used the last two eggs and a two scoop fulls of rice from the sack to make a quick breakfast. The Old Man watched him like an eager child, and attempted to help though Jounouchi brushed him away. "Just do the laundry later," he bargained, but he didn't know if his father was listening.

Thirty minutes were wasted cooking and sitting on the floor watching his father fall asleep while eating. Jounouchi scarfed down his portion and headed for the door before his father woke up again.

A bowl smashed against the wall beside the door, his father shouting: "You good for nothin'!" as he left.

—

The Kaiba estate was on the exact opposite side of town, so Jounouchi peddled hard and fast (to make up for lost time) enough to make it feel like there was a breeze. Along the way, he considered whether or not he wanted to pull from his special savings to buy another electric fan. There was only a month left until the end of term, until entrance exams, until everything. The money was better spent on his own shitty apartment—but the fan would be damn nice.

He arrived somewhere around nine-thirty, peddling up to the wrought-iron gate and jamming the buzzer several times. A camera whirred above him before the gate floated opened and he peddled the rest of the way up.

There was no telling what would happen. The shirt could have been chucked out the door and he'd be sent on his way. That was fine. He would peddle to the café and wait for an hour or two for work. It beat being at home.

Kaiba answered the door.

Jounouchi's brows jumped. "Woah, ain't got a servant doin' it?"

"It's Sunday," Kaiba replied.

"Oh." As if that explained everything. Jounouchi leaned over and looked into the dim foyer. "I'm here for my shirt, I guess. And uh...well, I'm still wearin' yours."

"So I see."

The door opened up, and Kaiba wordlessly led him inside. The house was cool and refreshing. So much so that Jounouchi would willingly endure the prick's presence for it. Not that Kaiba was being so much of a prick lately, just a weirdo. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"So uh...nice place," Jounouchi commented, gazing around at the high ceilings and fancy panelling. "Ya ever get lost?"

"Tch."

"Right, yeah duh. It's your house. But still. Ya really use this whole place?"

"For KaibaCorp," he explained. Jounouchi imagined rooms full of wall-to-wall computers and wires, something out of a sci-fi flick. If that was the case, maybe he'd see them sprouting from the walls. "Some mainframes are here for safekeeping. Amongst other projects."

"Don't ya got a whole other building for that?"

Kaiba cast a severe look at Jounouchi before a smirk popped up for half a second. "I do. But you wouldn't understand the intricacies of how it all works."

"Prolly not. But ya might as well try. Ain't got nothin' better to do 'til we make it to wherever the hell ya hid my shirt," Jounouchi said with a chuckle. Kaiba picked up the pace and wound him through several corridors until they reached what looked like a home office.

Books. So many dog-earred books with sticky notes hanging out of them. They almost overtook the dual-monitor computer on the desk. Carefully, Jounouchi navigated the mess as Kaiba did, standing in front of the desk.

"What's all this mess?"

"Work," Kaiba replied. The shirt was slapped on top of a pile of books. Clean and, as he picked it up and brought it close, fresh. Lilac? Lavender? One of those L-flowers? "There. No more bloodstains."

Jounouchi nodded. "Thanks, Kaib'. For whatever all this is."

"Hm?"

"Shirt? The salve stuff, the ice pack?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kaiba said. He sat down at the desk and started typing away.

"Ri- _ight_ ," Jounouchi drawled. From where he stood, there was a wide view of the backyard behind the house, and he could see Mokuba running around with one of the suits following shortly behind. "So, I guess I should give you back yours."

"Mm."

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Second door to the left."

Jounouchi backed out of the room, never letting his gaze drop from Kaiba. The further away he got, the more Kaiba seemed to soften. Or maybe it was seeing him in the halo of books, dressed down in polo and simple slacks, that made him seem more human. Down-to-Earth. Especially the way he rolled his head side-to-side and rubbed his neck.

It took Kaiba glancing Jounouchi's way for him to bolt out of the room, his cheeks and ears sizzling. Kaiba caught him staring.

But then, Kaiba had also been staring. A lot. Especially at lunch where everyone else could see. It was only fair, and that was Jounouchi's logic to himself as he changed and headed back into the study with Kaiba's shirt. He threw it on top of a stack of books.

"What are you doing?" Kaiba asked.

"Givin' you your shirt back?"

"Why?"

"'Cause you gave me mine back?" Jounouchi said. Kaiba's lips pursed, and he hammered away at the backspace key. He didn't reply, and Jounouchi thought he had missed something, but after several seconds of machine-gun typing, he turned to leave. "Unless ya got anymore weird surprises for me, I'm gonna split."

Jounouchi was at the door when Kaiba called, "Wait."

"What?"

Kaiba stood, and pushed the shirt off the stack of books. It fell onto the floor. "Take the shirt."

"Why?" Jounouchi asked. He plucked it off the floor.

"Because you haven't washed it yet. It smells like you."

Jounouchi froze, trying to figure out what those words meant in that order. Kaiba-ese, a rare variant of Japanese found only in Domino City. But somewhere deep down, he sort of understood. In the same way that he had, once or twice, took in deep breaths of the loaner shirt when it mostly smelled like whatever Earthy cologne or bath soap Kaiba used.

"Okay."

Again, he backed away from the desk.

"Bring it back next Sunday if you happen to wash it," Kaiba suggested.

Jounouchi had a million questions, but he didn't bother. Kaiba was right, there were too many intricacies, but it had nothing to do with Kaiba Corporation's work. Just the actual man who bared it's name.

Even so, he felt determined to figure all the weirdo's intricacies out.

The problem was, he had to figure out where to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some things a brewin’. :3


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one fills another bingo board spot :3 I had intended for it to be on the last part but wanted to break them up. 
> 
> anyways, here ya go.

When Jounouchi got home after sunset, the laundry wasn't done. A single light made the basket cast a long shadow in the living room, still laying in the middle of the floor where he left it.

Sighing, he began to pick up the pieces of the bowl still scattered in the doorway, and wondered briefly if he should try and patch the hole in the wall. Why bother. The place was old and moth eaten anyways.

The apartment was still and quiet, save for the hum of the neighbour's window air conditioner. He could almost imagine it being cool as he peeled his work uniform from his skin and laid down on the futon.

"Shoulda bought the fan..."he murmured, but at least his stomach was full. The food won him over. Besides, it was hard to concentrate on anything: the heat, his stomach, sleep, or the blank period of time he spent lying in bed thumbing through textbooks and cramming for exams he was fairly confident he wasn't going to pass. That was just the nature of his operation; he was better suited for a factory job, or being a professional Magic and Wizards player.

Not even that daydream could escape the fact that Kaiba was on the brain. Specifically, how to talk to Kaiba, other than their annoying passing remarks. They sat next to each other—they didn't have to pass notes.

Where the hell did he start?

'Oi, Kaiba, your dad as messed up as mine?' No, too forward.

'So, guess workin' guys got to stick together!' Yeah right.

Maybe something a little less focused. Just a 'hey' and a 'what's up'.

All too informal for moneybags, but all they had to bond over was the shirt and their shared forbidden zone. Not really typical, or light, topics of conversation.

He dozed off mid-muse, with Kaiba heavy on the brain.

—

For once, Jounouchi slipped into class just on time, nodding and waving to Honda and Yuugi as he sat down.

He laid out his book and pen knowing full well his face would be in its spine before long. Before he had the chance, Kaiba remarked:

"You do know what time class starts."

"Miracles happen."

"Hn."

There was brief moment that Jounouchi thought that he and the prick—was he really a prick anymore?—could have a dialogue. It was easy if Kaiba started it, too, because Jounouchi could never tell when Kaiba was willing to talk, even if he was being hateful or quippy. The man had the emotional range of a hard boiled egg, and the boredom in his eyes showed. For being a good student, Jounouchi highly suspected that absolutely nothing was being learned, given how Kaiba rarely turned the pages or wrote things down. The brief moment was lost as soon as it started.

"So uh, what's the detergent you used on the shirt?"

Kaiba side-eyed him and sneered. Yeah, that was a glorious way to start a conversation.

Getting Kaiba to talk probably wasn't going to happen.

That didn't stop Jounouchi. He was nothing if not persistent and hard-headed. He figured as long as Kaiba didn't deny him outright, or make threats, all conversations were fair game. The executive _had_ invited him back to estate, even if it was just to deliver laundry which he swore he would do. He would have to.

His efforts were usually between classes, waiting for the next teacher to arrive, and while they were small, he found that asking less specific questions garnered more responses. Nothing too cerebral.

"So why ya bring your laptop everyday?"

"Work."

"Well, yeah. But whatcha gettin' done at lunch that can't wait like, three hours?"

"International companies don't sleep," Kaiba explained. Jounouchi's mouth formed an 'o', and he nodded in semi-understanding, though he was almost more grateful that Kaiba replied at all. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought it was because, maybe, they were talking about Kaiba. A selfish topic for a selfish teenager. But for this experiment, he knew he couldn't think that way. The clean shirt he had tucked into his trousers said Kaiba was capable of altruism somewhere, under the right circumstances.

"Do you sleep?" Jounouchi asked.

"Enough."

"Yeah, me too," Jounouchi replied, laughing nervously. When Kaiba looked his way, he rubbed the back of his neck and ruffled his hair. "Sometimes I get off at like, I dunno, 9 or 10. Which isn't bad. Ride home's like a half-hour, but then Wakuba-sensai always gives us long lit essays an' I jus'," he let his lips loosely flap, imitating snoring while still chuckling to himself. His knees were knocking together between the desk, only stopped by one foot stepping on top of the other. "Ya know?"

"No."

Kaiba was staring again. Not just Kaiba, but the range of other students that encircled them. The classroom had gone deathly quiet, and Jounouchi flattened against his desk.

"The hell ya all starin' at!" Jounouchi shouted.

They turned away. Kaiba was back to leaning on his fist and looking bored to his notebook, but Jounouchi was sure he caught a quick glance and small smile.

—

It was wash, rinse, repeat for five days. All of Jounouchi's attempts between class were small. Simple conversation on sometimes ridiculous topics, because there was something fascinating about Kaiba's face screwing in confusion.

Kaiba had a face full of childish wonder. When he wasn't brooding or bored or focused, he retained an innocent look; wide eyes, long cheeks in his quickly hidden slackjaw, and a cute (Jounouchi couldn't find a better word) nose that would turn red as he tried to decipher what gibberish Jounouchi had spouted.

For the life of him, Jounouchi couldn't decide what he was doing that was any different from Yuugi's attempts at befriending Kaiba. Maybe because he wasn't so much befriending Kaiba as much as he was being curious. It wasn't like Kaiba was always open. Most questions were shot down with acerbic comments or flat-out ignored; it just took the right ones, the off-guard ones, that by no means said Jounouchi was really interested in friendship, because he wasn't. He was more or less interested in cracking the Kaiba Seto code. Friendship, whatever that meant to Kaiba, would have been accidental by-product and probably unspoken or denied.

Which meant it was easier not to get his friends involved.

Yuugi would have been gung-ho to allow Kaiba into their group at lunch, which Jounouchi had considered plenty of times as he stumbled to his seat. But it wasn't really Yuugi. It was Anzu and her little comments of being "creeped out" by Kaiba's stares at Jounouchi, or Honda's egging to just go up to Kaiba and do something about the intimidating stares, or Ryou's comments muttered into his thighs.

Still, he considered it every day.

"Yo, moneybags," he called as he walked up, carefully moving around other students. Kaiba's head raised an inch. Jounouchi swallowed hard and his guts clenched. Instead of words, he nodded towards their table.

Before he could get a response, someone barrelled full force into him, knocking his tray up into his chest and spilling food down the front of his shirt. He froze, with the entire lunchroom staring at him as he shivered.

"Oh Jou-kun, jeez, I'm sorry...I..."

Jounouchi's eyes squeezed closed. "Nah, man, it's a'right."

It was more about what the food cost, Jounouchi thought for a second. It wasn't often he actually bought his lunch. Today, he had felt like he earned it after having the pleasure of cleaning up the Old Man's mess and had cut his palm open on a liquor bottle fragment. But no, it wasn't really that. It was that Kaiba had seen it and promptly left.

—

The shirt was ruined. Not that most of his clothes weren't for not having been washed for close to two weeks.

When he dressed out for gym he was thankful it wasn't Kaiba's shirt. He'd changed out of that after the third day, when the bath soap smell went away. It _was_ the shirt that Kaiba had washed for him. Now, it unfortunately smelt like some teriyaki mess crossed with the lilac-lavender.

Gym was probably the only time he and Kaiba didn't talk. They were too busy jabbing at each other over tennis, even when they weren't playing one another.

The coach was merciful and had them rotate partners, though he and Kaiba always seemed to face each other at least once, which meant that he was sweat-soaked and frustrated from chasing the ball.

"Go on, mutt, it's natural instinct!"

"Piss off, ya ain't funny," he chuckled.

But Kaiba laughed full-belly. Not quite as maniacal as in the past, but Jounouchi was sure he could have lobbed the ball into Kaiba's mouth if he tried hard enough.

There definitely wasn't much friendship going on between them. It was more like a symbiosis of misery over some weird, backwards empathy or sympathy, he still hadn't decided which yet. Jounouchi was a chew toy that bit back, and it was kind of fun in the weirdest way possible. Weird for the weirdo, who would have thought?

Jounouchi liked hearing Kaiba laugh, though. It was passionate and raw. A small side of his strange dual personality. A part that was hidden like the innocent confusion.

Maybe Jounouchi was being soft. When Kaiba arched his back and legs to serve, he did look at Kaiba's abdomen. Milky white, taut, swirling around a small belly-button with just a small touch of hair where his shorts would slip down at the top of the his serve. It almost made his taunting worth it every time Jounouchi missed, and the ball hit the back wall.

But he wasn't as interested on Friday. Drove down by the oppressive heat, the lack of sleep, and the pain in his palm every time his racket made contact with the ball. He was tired and ready to spend a few useless hours at Yuugi's going over flash cards and mock exams while they nibbled on snacks sounded appealing. Very appealing. More appealing than getting a few seconds to stare at Kaiba's washboard abs and sweat-flushed cheeks, but mainly because they would eventually ended up playing a video-game. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Jounouchi snorted and hit the ball. It had become a little easier to lob the ball back, even if Kaiba served it ninety miles an hour on a backspin. He'd learned Kaiba’s patterns enough to slide into the hit.

"I didn't think old dogs learned new tricks," Kaiba quipped.

"Surprise, surprise."

"Might actually be a challenge." The ball barrelled back at him. "Not."

"I've had some practice."

"Oh? On who?" Kaiba asked.

A heavy grunt as Jounouchi hit it barely over the net. "Got a face in mind."

Kaiba spiked the ball back. "Heh. I have a few guesses."

There it was, that subtle empathy, that little look of curiosity coupled with a smirk that came off as condescending to others. Slowly, Jounouchi was beginning to deconstruct it.

Weakly, the ball hit the net before flopping back towards Jounouchi's feet. He picked it up and served it again, loosely gripping his racket. He wasn't even keeping score. 45-0 probably. Or maybe they were on the next match. Kaiba told him but he wasn't listening.

"Please, mutt, you're wasting my time."

"Now or always?"

Kaiba didn't respond. Which was normal, because moneybags didn't reply to a lot of things, but Jounouchi had figured out that his silences were their own communication. Words without words, and it hurt. 'Yes' would have hit him with so much less frustration.

The ball fired at him like a bullet, and Jounouchi double-handed the racket to hit it back.

This was an actual match. Back and forth, running until his lungs felt like they were bleeding and he was sure his palm actually was. Because fuck it, Kaiba was still a prick, a weirdo, an asshole who was pretty damn happy making sure people who just how much he didn't like or need them for anything. They were obstacles, that was it.

Well, Jounouchi would be a damned obstacle.

He kept up with Kaiba until his arms and elbows ached. Maybe Kaiba would actually lighten the hell up if he was able to keep pace. That's all he wanted. Whatever that casual, calm look he got when things were _his_ way or in _his_ favour, waving his magnanimousness around when it suited him.

The ball bounced out of bounds, and Jounouchi hung his head. He squeezed the semi-wet racket, not bothering to look if it was sweat or blood.

"What, you give up?"

"Zip it!"

Kaiba's lips curled. He followed Jounouchi's trek to the ball like the camera that had checked Jounouchi at the gate.

"How did that happen?" Kaiba asked, nodding towards the bloody racket handle.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about."

Jounouchi's heart throbbed in frustration, and he bounced the ball several times while refusing to look at Kaiba drilling a hole in the side of his head. Now he wanted to ask? Whatever.

When he went to serve, he caught a strange, resigned look hooded in Kaiba's eyes, but it was too late. All of his embarrassment, his annoyance, his frustration went into the contact of racket to ball.

It wasn't Kaiba, he thought as the ball ripped through through air.

Kaiba was something to take his anger out on. Just like the kids he used to pummel. They were distractions, easy targets, prey. He'd loosened up with Yuugi, who sort of got it, who supported him but didn't ask questions and let him stay over when things got a little too overwhelming.

If he thought for half a second, he knew Kaiba was just Kaiba. Doomed to be a prick; he was forged by his unmentioned, screwed up raise, same as Jounouchi. Two personalities walking parallel on the same path. And it made him so easy to target. To challenge. To be a mirror.

Right up until the tennis ball smashed him in the face.

Jounouchi didn't know if Kaiba reacted or not. He only saw the racket slipping out of his hand and clattering on the ground, echoing across the gymnasium as the last of the tennis balls bounded to a stop. Not even a murmur, though every last eye was on them.

Kaiba gripped his face, and blood spackled the floor in fat, red drops that slipped between his fingers. He squatted down on curled his face close to his knees.

Shit.

Sprinting to Kaiba, Jounouchi knelt beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Gently, he urged Kaiba to pull his hands away to look at the damage. When he wouldn't, Jounouchi tore off his gym shirt and offered it for cover, pressing it into Kaiba's hands.

Kaiba gasped at the touch, and shoved Jounouchi to the floor while greedily pressing it to his cheeks. His eyes flicked to Jounouchi, pained and innocently confused, while he sucked in muffled, panted breaths and attempted to stand up.

"Kaib' you—"

"Save it."

Jounouchi stared at Kaiba's knobby knees in a daze, a single blood drop trailing down his shin. The coach jogged over and began to guide Kaiba away.

"I'm sorry!" Jounouchi shouted. The room went still again. Even Kaiba stopped, half-turning to look back. "I'm sorry. Really, it was an accident, I didn't mean t' do it. It jus'..."

The shirt dropped long for Jounouchi to see the medley of colours blossoming across the now strange new angle of Kaiba's nose, mostly covered in globs of blood and snot. There was never a hint of defeat in his face, but instead something indecipherable, that stung Jounouchi's heart as Kaiba’s jaw ticked and continued to walk away.

"Fuck..."

Jounouchi could forget figuring Kaiba out, or whatever the hell he was doing. None of this made any sense to begin with. It was just confusing, embarrassing, humiliating. What was he thinking?

Kaiba would kill him. No, not kill. That was too kind. Sue probably, though Kaiba's pocket lint was probably worth more. Make an example out of. Shun, somehow worse than before. Which meant no more casual glances or creepy stares or magnanimous gestures.

Somehow, he'd managed to hurt the only person who he was honest and willing to share with, who he thought he might have been able to have a heart-to-heart with. Or more, whatever more was.

Love, probably.

Not that he knew a thing about it. Not that it mattered anymore. Better to fuck it up before it got too far and either of them fooled themselves in thinking there was actually something going on.

That didn't make his heart hurt any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and things go from bad to worse. Bingoboard spot was ‘broken nose’. 
> 
> If you want a terrible/whump short, I got spots open. @lafeae on tumblr if interested.


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write most of these in one sitting, so I was surprised by the length of this one. That said, I didn’t wanna cut anything out. A few different things are happening :3

It didn't take long for word to spread. As soon as Jounouchi entered the school Saturday morning, he saw people's stares. Specifically the girls, glaring at him and throwing their noses in their air, putting their fingers on the tips of them.

Of course. Everyone heard.

It came as no surprise to see Kaiba's desk empty. Jounouchi stared at it, expecting to make Kaiba materialise, not that he wanted Kaiba anywhere near him. He had no idea when the axe would fall, or what the consequences would be. Kaiba was weird and unpredictable. The entire night before he expected Kaiba Corporation suits (or yakuza thugs) to come breaking down his door.

"You okay, Jou-kun?" Yuugi asked in between classes.

Jounouchi shrugged. "I guess. Jus'...don't know what to think."

"About Kaiba-kun?"

"Nah. 'Bout the other guy I smashed in the face with a tennis ball," he replied bitterly.

Yuugi winced and frowned. “It's gonna be okay. You didn't mean it, did you?" 

"'Course not. That ain't the point though. Me an' Kaib' are oil n' water. Prick was prolly jus' lookin' for a reason to get rid of me."

"I'm sure it's not going to be like that."

Jounouchi set his expression in the same neutral look that he'd given his whispering classmates, but he'd held it so long that his cheeks hurt and his lungs were tight. "Yeah, you're right. It's gonna be worse."

"Jou..."

Jounouchi sighed. "It's...complicated, Yuug'. I don't know how I manage t' screw up something so simple."

The smaller teen nodded and scooted closer as Jounouchi's voice quieted. "You mean about you and Kaiba-kun...talking?"

Sincere amethyst eyes leveled Jounouchi. It wasn't an open question, but Yuugi said it so low, and so careful, that even if others heard, they might not understand.

Jounouchi nodded and stretched his arms behind his head.

Smiling tightly, Yuugi folded his hands on his knees as he glanced over his shoulder and back again. "Other me would tell you to follow your heart. But, I don't think it's that easy. Especially since it's Kaiba-kun. I think maybe you should be honest. Talk to Kaiba-kun and explain what happened. That it was an accident."

As if shouting it in the gym had been a joke. Jounouchi bit back the bitter laughter. Yuugi was just trying to help, and he appreciated it.

"Thanks man. I'll...I'll go an' talk to him, I guess." He did still have to wash the shirt, after all. Maybe it could be the olive branch or whatever. That didn't absolve his fear, and he wondered if he needed to prepare for the worst. "But if I disappear, ya know who to blame," he said. Laughter covered up his worry, and Yuugi knowingly chuckled with him

"I could go with you."

"Nah. I'm good. Thanks."

—

The pep talk only helped Jounouchi to decide whether or not he wanted to approach Kaiba. It didn't erase the fear deep in his belly, but hiding from it wasn't going to solve the problem. Still, he was anticipating the absolute worst outcome. Kaiba could say, or do, anything. Though doing depended on the damage, and Jounouchi would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to see what Kaiba's face looked like

Overall though, he wanted to apologise, whether or not Kaiba would take it. Which made him wonder if there was something else he could do. Maybe buy a gift.

Yeah, him buying Kaiba gifts. Wasn't that hoot?

Still, he considered it. Deeply considered it. He wanted to bring something alongside the still-needed-to-be-washed shirt. So when he left for school on Saturday, he dug up his savings from beneath a loose floorboard in his tiny closet, some 40,000 or 50,000¥. It could have been more, but he'd been careless early on ant the Old Man had swiped it and took it to a pachinko parlour.

It wasn't much, but it could probably buy Kaiba something nice as an apology gift, among other things. Like a fan. A nice, rotating, electric fan. It was all the money to his name and he knew it wasn't enough for a down payment on his own place, but he could dream.

After school, he parted ways with his friends while they trekked off to cram school. He worked until six, and left the café with the money burning a hole in his pocket. He biked to the shopping district and walked around, staring at all manner of things and wondering if they were Kaiba's taste.

As if he knew moneybags taste. Eccentric. Rich. Out of Jounouchi's league. So what did he like then? Dragons, work, Magic and Wizards. Blue and white. Games.

The more Jounouchi looked, the more frustrating it became, until a small headache formed. This was stressful. This gift was supposed to be an apology. But what kind of gift said 'sorry I smashed your nose with a tennis ball'?

Two hours went by with nothing to show for it. Stymied, Jounouchi stared in the window of a shop, looking at a fan they had for sale.

He wanted it. Short of fastfood or booster packs, he hadn't bought himself much. Relief filled his lungs as it was rung up, and while at the register, he took a handful of candy.

Food. How long had it been he ate something halfway decent, he wondered. Good ingredients cooked well, that were hearty and filling. Something like Yuugi's mom made him when he stayed over, but that he could make instead.

In a corner grocery store he began picking out anything and everything he hadn't had in a long time because the Old Man wouldn't buy it. Things he never thought to buy. Quality meat, fresh fish, sauces and spices, fresh ginger, pickled plum, as well as all the ingredients for making curry, not that he was sure how to make it proper, but he would try. He indulged on anything and everything. Including stopping and picking out a good, fragrant detergent to do laundry so Kiyoko wouldn't have to lend out hers.

He wouldn't, couldn't, use up all money, but along the way he realised there was very little left for a gift.

So he looked at the paperback books. Kaiba read, but probably not cheap romance novels. Something titled _Advanced Learnings of Quantum Whatever_ , or _The Complete Teachings of Old Greek Men_. Plato, Socrates (they were Greek, right?) he had recalled later.

A card maybe.

There were cute get well cards. Even if Kaiba didn't look at it, it couldn't hurt. He picked one with a teddy bear on it.

After checkout, the money leftover was meagre. He had plenty of good food, but no ideas for the apology gift. Nothing more than a nice-smelling laundered shirt and the card, and that felt chintzy.

That thought weight on Jounouchi while he packed up the groceries and stuffed them in his backpack for the ride home.

Along the way, he tried to think of better gifts, but nothing came, and none of the shops he passed were giving him ideas. The food weighing heavy on his back was more on his mind. What to make for dinner first? Depended on if the Old Man was home—noodles never hurt anyone, though he almost wanted to make oden or pork cutlets instead.

What did Kaiba like to eat?

For all the times they were close, and he had caught the weirdo staring, he never once looked at Kaiba's lunch. Fancy food, he guessed. Filet or wagyu. Something made by a personal chef. Jounouchi knew he couldn't make anything quite that good, but...

...maybe soup. A banged up face could still eat soup. And homemade food came from the heart.

—

When Jounouchi got home, the apartment was empty.

He started the laundry and then made oden, nodding off to rain pattering against window after dinner. At one in the morning, he startled awake and went downstairs to put the clothes in the dryer. 

Kaiba shirt, in particular, was handled with care and run through the dryer twice to get the wrinkles out.

When he went back to sleep, the fan was wonderful. The rain hadn't dispelled much heat, but having it running on high all night was glorious. The sleep would have been sweeter if he wasn't freaking out about seeing Kaiba, planning what he'd say and how he'd approach.

He awoke early in the morning to Old Man's slamming doors. The bathroom door. The refrigerator door. Cabinet doors. Jounouchi forced him up and trudged into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"What's all the noise?" Jounouchi asked.

"Ya go to the store?"

"Yeah. We were outta shit."

He padded into the kitchen and found the Old Man rummaging through spice bottles and muttering, "what's all this junk," as he discarded them on the counter.

"Stuff for food," Jounouchi said, replacing the spices.

"This is good shit," Old Man said, critically eyeing a jar of white miso.

"Yeah, and?"

"And? Ya didn't go t' the store with me for your splurge? Ya didn't think I'd want something?" He asked. Jounouchi frowned and hitched his thumbs into his pants. "Have ya been holdin' out on me?"

Jounouchi said nothing. He pulled out everything he needed to make something for Kaiba, something good. A rich noodle soup that he vaguely remembered his mother making for them when he was little.

"Answer me, Katsuya."

"No."

"Then what's all this? Where'd ya get the money?"

"Work."

"Bull! This ain't work money. You'd be doing this all the time if it was work. You're holdin' out on me," the Old Man accused, and he clutched Jounouchi's elbow. Uninterested, Jounouchi nudged him away, debating eggs or no eggs? "Don't tell me you're bein' a thug again."

"I ain't doin' nothin'."

"That's bad enough Kat, but if it's bringing us money, the least you can do is not hold out on me. I'm your father. I know you can be a good boy."

"I said I ain't doin' nothin'."

"Then why won't ya tell me?"

Jounouchi sighed. The Old Man pulled at him, broken nails scratching at his arms. It was better not to fight, not when his father was hungover and upset. Nothing good ever came of it.

"At least you're makin' me breakfast," Old Man said, eventually pulling away.

Jounouchi snorted and muttered, "It ain't for you."

"So just you then? See, ya really are holdin' out on me."

"I ain't makin' it for me neither, pa. So piss off! Raid the fridge for all I care," Jounouchi insisted. A wooden spoon cracked across his bicep was his reward.

"Don't get smart."

"I'll get however smart I want," Jounouchi bit back. Just as the sting in his arm stopped, the spoon hit it again. He knew the Old Man knew how to make it hurt.

Jounouchi grabbed for the spoon before it hit a third time, yanking it away from the Old Man and throwing it against the wall. Monkey-see, monkey-do. "I bought groceries, that's it. So make your own damned food."

Jounouchi chose not to include an egg. He had barely finishing pouring the noodles in when the Old Man shoved him hard enough to dig his hip into the oven handle. He barely caught himself from going face first in noodle soup.

His Old Man grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him away from the stove. "Careful there. You'll burn yourself."

Jounouchi clenched his fists. "The hell I will, it'll be your fault."

"I didn't mean it that hard, Kat," said the Old Man as toddled away to the kitchen table. "I just know you're a good boy. Look at what you're doin' for whoever this person is. Can't ya be as good to me as you are t' them? You're makin' your good broth. The special broth. I know it by smell. No one makes it as good as my boy."

Jounouchi's fists unfurled at the compliment. Maybe it was an accident. He hadn't seen it, and the Old Man was always drunk. Wobbling was his forte.

"I'm sorry, Kat. It's jus' been stressful," the Old Man said after a long silence.

"Yeah, yeah."

"With all this good food, I figured it'd be nice to sit down together for real."

"Not today," Jounouchi said. He began to scoop the soup into a sturdy bowl that would survive the trip. "I'll leave ya a bit. But I gotta go drop this off an' go to work."

His Old Man gave a leering smile. "Who's pants you gettin' into?"

"Pa!"

The Old Man chuckled.

Jounouchi fled from the kitchen with the soup and gathered up everything he needed before heading out the door.

—

No matter how fast Jounouchi peddled, the air was stagnant. The swamp-ish, after rain humidity suffocated him and made the _kree-kree-klik_ of cicadas louder than the click of his bike spokes. He made a song out of it until he pulled up to the estate's wrought-iron gates. To Jounouchi's surprise, the gates floated open after a few buzzes.

Kaiba was expecting him. That couldn't have been good.

Jounouchi's heart hammered in his chest as he parked his bike and hoped up the front step. It was two minutes, three minutes, five minutes of staring at the door until his hands went numb. He knocked and shook out all of his joints as he waited.

This wouldn't be a fight. It wouldn't be! He wouldn't let it be.

The door cracked open. Whatever tiny smile Jounouchi offered as penance disappeared.

Across the middle of Kaiba's face was a thick bandage, and something cotton-like was taped beneath the nostrils, to the point Jounouchi wasn't sure if he saw any nose. He tried to look away but couldn't. Not for lack of effort. A palette full of colourful bruises marred Kaiba from his now puffy, panda eyes down to his lip, and Jounouchi wished he didn't know that bruises came in those colours. Or that he'd made those colours.

"I uh...I'm here because...well, I think ya know why, but I...I—," Jounouchi wanted to hide, to jump into the bushes or melt into the cracks in the pavement. His pride wouldn't let him. He would do this, somehow, someway.

In panic, Jounouchi thrust the noodle bowl and shirt out to Kaiba and bowed his head.

From beneath his lashes, Jounouchi saw Kaiba raise his brow, flatten his lips and then, with impressive boredom, slam the door in his face. He didn't even bother to be angry.

"Why, you—!" Jounouchi's head snapped up and he pounded on the door with his palm. "Oi! Ya can't open the gate an' then slam the door! Listen t' the apology at least, dammit! I know ya can hear me, this door ain't that damn thick," Jounouchi said. For all he knew, Kaiba was pressed on the other side. In all his frustration, he arched back, ready to pitch the shirt and container of noodles into the door as he shouted: "I hope your nose suffocates!" before clapping his hand over his mouth.

He froze.

Something quivered deep inside him. More than fear. More than rage.

Sadness.

Jounouchi tried to swallow the tears it brought, but it choked him. He wasn't sad for himself, no, though he knew he was pitiful. He was sad out the weird empathy he thought Kaiba didn't have, because maybe he was so pitiful and warped that he didn't have it either. But he knew exactly why it hit him so hard.

It hurt to be hurt by someone you cared about. Who you thought cared about you.

Jounouchi knew what that hurt felt like. He felt it every time the Old Man jeered at him, and then said 'I didn't mean it like that'. Every time the Old Man hit him and said 'it wasn't supposed to be that hard'.

Kaiba had went through that and came out on the other side, though it wasn't unscathed. He'd learned to close himself off, to stop trusting, to stop caring, to stop giving.

To stop loving.

Because what had it rewarded him with?

Regret hit him like a tidal wave, and his forehead thunked against the door.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, so low the cicadas drowned him out. Working up courage, Jounouchi cleared his throat to begin again, hoping that Kaiba was really on the other side. "I dunno why I said that. I dunno why I do or say a lot of shit. Prolly 'cause I'm fucked up an'..." he sucked in a breath, "an' that ain't an excuse. I didn't mean t' hurt ya, but I did. It's like...the only I'm thing I'm good at, but I didn't mean it. And I wanna talk. I don't get this an'...an' I dunno if you really do neither, but we could maybe figure it out together. I'm sorry, a'right? I'm so f-fuckin' sorry, Kaiba."

Kneeling down, Jounouchi laid the gifts on the doorstep. The card was inched out so it was visible. Whether Kaiba took it or threw it away didn't matter. He'd brought the gift, said he was sorry. He couldn't make Kaiba forgive him, but he could offer the olive branch.

After, Jounouchi hopped on his bike and peddled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of everything going, yeah? 
> 
> :3 tell me what you think.


	6. Part VI

"I don't get it," Jounouchi muttered, the words squashed as he contorted his face to keep his pencil balanced on his upper lip. "I jus'...I don't get it."

Anzu leaned over to him and began turning pages in his almost untouched maths workbook, finally landing on a page and tapping it with her pen. Jounouchi vaguely watched her from the end of his nose, but didn't know, or almost care, what she was doing.

They were studying. Two weeks out from exams meant that every time he, Honda, and Anzu came over to Yuugi's house, they were studying. Which was fine. He wanted to see them succeed; he wanted to see Anzu go off to dance, to see Yuugi get into design school (wherever that was) and Honda...said something about trade school, maybe? They didn't talk in depth. But him...knowing how to solve for x, and what the root of (i) was didn't matter much. The factory wasn't going to need that.

"You're on the wrong page, silly," Anzu answered. She plucked the pencil from his lip.

"Yeah. I gotcha."

"Then what don't you get?" Anzu asked.

Honda laughed to himself and nudged Jounouchi's shoulder. "He was sayin' something about Kaoru-chan, earlier."

"Nothin' good. Jus' tellin' ya she's starin' at you or somethin'."

Anzu chuckled. "Aw, Jou. Kaoru's been looking at you."

Jounouchi stole his pencil from her and rolled it between his hands. He kept looking between Anzu and Honda, heart pounding, before he caught Yuugi glancing back at him with a tiny 'it's going to be okay' smile. For a few seconds, he engaged with a dialogue of eyes. A 'no it won't' eye roll, followed by a 'whatever' shrug. Yuugi sighed.

"No way it was for me," said Jounouchi.

"Why not?" Anzu asked. She laid her workbook on her lap. "If you're nervous, I could talk to her."

"You'll talk to Kaoru, but not Miho?" Honda balked.

Jounouchi began etching in the margins of his workbook, content to let Honda steal the conversation while he sketched out a long, uneven jawline. Thin mouth, long bangs with sharp eyes. It looked more like an egg, and he deliberately left the nose out, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn't Kaiba. It totally wasn't Kaiba, and to even imagine that it was was an insult.

"Because Miho isn't looking at you, of course," Anzu said.

"Who says?" Honda asked.

Anzu crossed her arms. "Don't you think you'd be gloating to us if she was?"

"Maybe I'm also nervous!" Honda suggested, and he looked up to Yuugi. "Bein' nervous happens, right Yuug'? It ain't just somethin' me and Jou would be dealing with, right?"

Blush crept up the back of Yuugi's neck, quickly covered by his hand. "It's getting hot in here," he said, hopping up and going over to the window and fiddling with it where it would've budge from the sill. He didn't ask for help.

Honda swung his arms towards Yuugi. "See? Even he's nervous. It ain't just a girl thing."

"I didn't say it was a girl thing," Anzu said. Jounouchi pretended not to notice that she'd dropped her pen and followed Yuugi to help him with the window. "What's Yuugi got to be nervous about anyways? He's not the one talking about people looking at him. That's you and Jou-kun. Speaking of, do you want me to talk to Kaoru, Jou?"

Jounouchi didn't answer, carefully colouring in the irises of the doodle with Anzu’s pen. The blue-purple ink was okay. Too dark, but good enough. The doodle still didn't have a nose, though. 

Anzu looked back. "Jou?"

"Huh?"

"You want me to ask Kaoru-chan?"

Jounouchi shrugged. "Wouldn't make a difference."

"Why not? All she can say is 'no'," Anzu said.

"She wasn't lookin' at me. She was lookin' at Kaib's desk," he muttered as he drew a small nose, not sure what Kaiba's nose would look like after the whole mess.

Anzu shrieked, and Jounouchi flinched, when the window unjammed. A short gust of wind fluttered through, rattling the pages of their workbooks. It smelled warm and damp, ready to rain. 

Yuugi stared up at Anzu, grinning and puckering his lips to say something but shook his head and muttered 'thanks' to her. Yeah, nervous was right. Too stupid to realise that the people they wanted didn't want them back. Well, Anzu might have...but he wasn't going to broach that with all of them in the room. And Honda had already made moves, leaving gifts and talking to Miho in the halls.

So it was just him that was nervous. Nervous _and_ blind. Good combination.

"What uh...what did you say Jou?" Anzu asked. She tucked a hair behind her ear, eyes never straying from Yuugi's.

"Nothin'." Jounouchi looked down at his drawing. His flinch had drawn a long line through the nose and cheeks. "Nothin'."

—

On Wednesday, Jounouchi skidded into homeroom just as the bell rang.

His heart immediately began throbbing. Kaiba sat, still and composed, at his desk for the first time in a week and half. And Jounouchi couldn't fight the feeling of suddenly needing to throw up as he dropped into his seat.

Fuck.

His legs were tingling. He wanted to look over but stopped himself. He didn't want to see the colour palette bruises again, even if they'd healed some. They had to have. They wouldn't stay there forever.

Throughout the lecture, he snuck peeks out of the corner of his eye, trying to piece together the details. It ended up just making his stomach worse. This didn't feel like butterflies, not the way the girls described it. Unless they were dead and...he didn't want to think of that.

If he was going to vomit, he wanted it to be words.

Where was the bowl? Did he like the noodles? How about the smell of the detergent? Not that he could smell, Jounouchi thought. He knew what it felt like to have a broken nose. Everything tasted like blood and smelled like someone had shoved toilet paper deep into his brain.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered, and he immediately clapped his hand over his mouth.

His eyes drifted over to Kaiba and expected a death glare. Instead, he found Kaiba leaning into his palm and staring at the board, eyes wet and glazed over. He slowly turned each page in the book, not looking down. Had he looked down at all?

"You okay, Jou-kun?" Yuugi whispered.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, just ain't feelin' good, s'all."

Yuugi pointed with his chin to Kaiba. "Is everything...?"

Jounouchi's lips flattened. Kaiba was still absently turning pages, back to being weird. Weird, or brain damaged, maybe. That sudden thought scared the living daylights out of him. Had he brain damaged the smartest guy any of them knew?

"I dunno. Ain't askin'."

Yuugi nodded.

Slowly, Jounouchi exhaled and lowered his head to his desk. He had a shift later, and even with the fan, he hadn't been sleeping good, instead thinking of all the same questions he'd thought for the last week and half. Now, there was another one to worry about.

He wished anything about this maths lecture actually helped him figure out how to deal with this, and why it was Kaiba and not Honda or Yuugi. What the hell was different, suddenly wanting to be friends and share a messed-up, common forbidden zone. Somehow, he got the impression that something like that wasn't love, it was kinship. Friendship. Acquaintances in some therapy session.

How did love specifically get dragged into all of this? That had more or less been an exclamation of fear and guilt as Kaiba was staggered out of the gym, bleeding.

Before Kaiba, there hadn't really been speculation about much in the way of love, other than swapping porno mags with Yuugi, because they understood lust intrinsically. Lust didn't need explained.

Jounouchi's head pulled up when he felt Yuugi brush by him. He stood between Jounouchi and Kaiba's desks, his shoe toeing the ground.

"Kaiba-kun?" Yuugi asked. Kaiba rolled his shoulders. "It's uh...it's nice to see you back in class. I was thinking that, since it's getting so close to exams that maybe, if you're feeling up to it of course, maybe you'd like to join us for a..."

"Get lost, Yuugi."

Yuugi's head dropped. "I just thought that because you're—,"

"Do I look like a charity case to you?" Kaiba asked.

"No. No, I...Well, I..." Yuugi sucked in a breath and looked back ever so briefly. Enough that Jounouchi's stomach sank to the ground. Yeah, he was definitely going to puke. "I wanted to know if you were okay."

Kaiba scoffed. It sounded more hollow than Jounouchi remembered. "Just fine. Now go away."

"That's good, though."

Kaiba rolled his eyes, and Jounouchi saw him flinch and squeeze them closed instead. "Go away, Yuugi. You and your friends have caused enough damned trouble."

"Kaiba-kun—,"

"Stop bein' a prick, Kaib'. It ain't his fault," Jounouchi said. For the first time, Kaiba looked over. The anger he'd had towards Yuugi fell to a simmer, swimming beneath his cheeks, but he was paying attention.

"Whatever."

"Ya know it ain't," Jounouchi said.

Wordlessly, Kaiba raised his hand in a very mature 'talk to the hand'. As if he couldn't be bothered on the subject anymore.

Jounouchi jumped up from his seat and grabbed Kaiba's hand, lacing his fingers tight and moving the raised hand down so he could get a good look at Kaiba's face.

There had been words prepared. Fighting words, screaming words. Then he realised two things: how threatening he looked by grabbing Kaiba's hand, and how warm Kaiba's fingers and palm were beneath his. Everything was lost, and his stomach churned in heated embarrassment and fear. He only kept hearing the same question again and again. Does it hurt, does it hurt, does it hurt?

Their eyes locked.

"It ain't," Jounouchi said, his jaw quivering. "It ain't. Jus' don't take it out on them, take it out on me you...you..."

He couldn't do it. He couldn't be insulting, even if every sour name he'd ever called Kaiba plowed into his brain stem.

His grip loosened on Kaiba's hand, letting the palms touch and the fingers settle in the right places. Kaiba's long fingers reached down the back of Jounouchi's hand, caressing an old, jagged scar on his knuckle.

"Okay?" Jounouchi asked.

Kaiba's lips pursed. From beneath the thick bandage, Jounouchi saw the cute tip of his nose. Beneath the healing bruises, he saw the innocent, confused look in Kaiba's eyes return for half a second before his brows furrowed.

"Whatever."

Jounouchi let go, and he backed through several chairs, almost falling backwards as he scampered out of room.

He threw up in the nearest trash can.

—

The latter half of the city, the slums, the place where derelicts congregated, was cased in darkness. The rain didn't help the situation any, coming down in hissing sheets.

Jounouchi peddled hard, keeping his head bowed beneath his uniform jacket, but his bangs were already stuck to his forehead. It was a shitty end to a terrible Friday, but what else was new?

It was a blur as he parked his bike and sprinted inside, hanging out in the foyer. Lights above him flickered. Lightning streaked across the sky, and he began counting...one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three...

The storm was close. The thunder rattled the building.

He headed up, sticking to the wall as a family of five hustled by him.

Inside, the apartment was filled sticky. The rain permeated every surface, and he heard another crack of thunder from the living room window. There wasn't a single light on, just the flicker of candlelight. The television warbled in static, trying to adjust between lightning flashes.

Quickly, he changed out of damp clothes, hanging them in the shower before heading to the kitchen.

"That you, Kat?"

Jounouchi sighed. "Yup." Of course, the Old Man was home. Hard to walk to the mahjong parlour in the rain.

"Good. Been meanin' to— _hic—_ talk t' ya."

"Let me make somethin' t' eat first."

Lightning flashed. One-one thousand, two-one thousand...thunder. Closer. Closer. He pulled a pan out and dug through the pantry, deciding on what to make.

"Now, Katsuya," the Old Man demanded, his voice deepening. "You ain't been home for two days and— _hic—_ its fuckin' important."

Jounouchi grimaced. Last time he heard that, it was because the Old Man warned him that he'd wagered just a bit too much money, took out credit through a local loan shark, one Yamauchi-aniki, and they needed to think fast. To this day, Jounouchi was never sure exactly how that got worked out, and sometimes, he didn't want to know what things his father did when he was away for days at a time.

Checking the fridge, Jounouchi found a pack of beer with one bottle left, and prepared himself adequately for this news as he brought water to a boil to make stock. After, he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed.

"Whatcha want?" Jounouchi asked.

"Come closer."

"I can hear ya from here."

The Old Man slammed his hand on the coffee table. "Get over here dammit! I said its important. Christ, boy, jus' do what I— _hic—_ I ask."

The living room was wash in warm candlelight. Some ten or fifteen candles scattered around the room, most on the floor. Wax dripped on the wood.

"You're gonna burn this place down," Jounouchi said as he approached.

"Sit. Down."

Jounouchi approached the table, but slowed when he realised there was more than dirty dishes or beer bottles. There was a folded shirt, wrapped in plastic, and a dish sans noodles.

He dropped to his knees.

Before he could touch them, the Old Man grabbed him by the hair and dragged his face down to them. A candle flickered in his peripheral.

"The fuck is this?" The Old Man asked.

"Gym shirt. Bowl," Jounouchi answered, wriggling.

The grip tightened. "No shit. This the 'friend' you were— _hic—_ you were cookin' for?"

"Yeah. Friend from school."

"Yeah?" The Old Man asked. Another crack of lightning. One-one thousand, two...thunder. The apartment moaned. "What kind of friend? Seemed real keen on seein' ya got this shit."

"Just," Jounouchi paused, and tried imagining Kaiba standing in his doorway trying to deal with his father. Worse yet, he hadn't been home, hadn't been able to intercept it. And he couldn't find the words to describe just what that made Kaiba. "Jus'...a friend, Pa."

The grip loosened for half a second. "What kind of friend?"

"A friend," Jounouchi said, adamant.

"Ya don't cook for _friends_ ," the Old Man hissed. "Ya don't barely cook for family. Ya fuck him, Katsuya?"

"What! No, I—,"

His face was shoved into the bowl, gouging a cut into his forehead, before he was tossed away. "Ya fucked the pretty boy, didn't ya? Is that why his face is all messed up? You get carried away?"

Did he? Jounouchi rubbed the sore spot, his right eye blurring and filling with tears.

"I need t'— _hic—_ know these things, Katsuya. I need t' know my boy is a homo," the Old Man said. A leering smile drew onto his face, and he stretched out to grab a liquor bottle on the other side of the table. "It matters t' me— _hic—_ as your Pa. How else do I get t' drink to my boy bein' fucked for the first, hm?"

Jounouchi couldn't place why he disliked the words. His Old Man's drunkenness never needed a reason, but he still poured a glass and slung it back like the champ he had to be by now. Jounouchi found himself rooting for his liver to finally stop caring.

Another glass was poured, and sat with a quiet _tack_ in front of Jounouchi. "Drink up, boy. You're a man now. Lettin' other men screw ya. Better have gotten somethin' out of it."

The clear liquor sloshed in the cup. Lightning flashed.

"I don't wanna be like you," Jounouchi said.

One-one thousand—The Old man's eyes gleamed, hateful under a bushy brow. "What was that, boy?" — and thunder rolled.

The lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close to the end,I think. Question is, what happens next? Tell me what you think!


	7. Part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to marshmallons for betaing. :3 u amazing.

The remnants of the charred apartment building were like long, twiggy fingers reaching for the sky.

Kaiba wasn't surprised that it had burned to the ground. What was surprising was that half the neighbourhood hadn't been taken with it. Every building in the place had to have been built before the last world war and was held together, though only just, by greasy globs of oil and a lot of dedication to DIY work in the form of duck tape and over the top decorations to hide the holes.

Or maybe he was scrutinising the place too much. The poor district of Domino had character, to say the least. It had its own flair, much like its colourful residents. All of whom stared him down as they passed him by. It could have been the car they were staring at. Not everyday a sleek black limousine sat in the middle of their road. Though he was equal parts stranger.

Merely strange, he decided.

This wasn't his world. These weren't people who understood. They watched from balconies, blowing smoke and chattering gossip. He had stood for the better part of an hour, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, while staring at a burned down apartment complex. Jounouchi's apartment complex.

It gave him the reason as to why Jounouchi hadn't come to school for two days. Of course, he could have asked Yuugi and the rest of the nerd herd, but what good would that do him? Once he asked, they'd give him no peace of mind. Instead, he heard everything he needed to know in bits and pieces: Argument. Fire. Hospital.

Kaiba's lips thinned. Rain drops pecked on his head. Time to go.

He slipped into the back of the car and stretched out his legs. Standing rigid in place, and mulling over the apartment and what everything meant, had made his calves sore. Beside him, Mokuba sat, thumbs pounding away at a handheld game. The boy quietly cursed under his breath before glancing up at Kaiba.

"You done?" Mokuba asked.

"Yes."

"So are we going home now?"

Kaiba nodded, and Mokuba launched forward, ordering the driver to go. The car began to trundle out of the neighbourhood.

"What were you doing anyways?" Mokuba asked. The little blips from Mokuba's game started up again.

"Research."

"On what?"

"Jounouchi Katsuya."

"Oh." Mokuba's nose curled. He cursed at the game again, prompting Kaiba to rest a hand on his shoulder. He apologised. "Like before?"

"In a way. Though there was no building to go into this time," Kaiba said.

It went quiet as they drove across town. The temptation to tell the driver to go to Kame Game was there, but quickly squashed. If Jounouchi had been gone for this long, he was likely still in the hospital. Not once had Kaiba recalled Jounouchi missing class despite his deadbeat attitude towards it. Late? Constantly. But no fight or bruise had kept him from class no matter how badly it was smattered across his face.

He knew this was bad. How bad remained to be seen.

"I don't get it," Mokuba said once his character died. "Isn't Jounouchi the one that broke your nose?"

Kaiba nodded. "He is."

"So...why are you 'researching' him, or whatever. Shouldn't you just leave it to a lawyer or something?"

"I could, but it's complicated."

Mokuba snorted. "Why do you care?"

Kaiba leaned against the window and considered the question, all the while drawing his hand to his face. A single finger pressed the tip of his nose, pangs of pain bursting through his cheeks. He saw the mess underneath. He was, no doubt, going to need plastic surgery. He'd already contacted the surgeon, he was just waiting for the school year to end.

This was Jounouchi’s fault. The pain and suffering. The missed days of class and work. The surgery. Why should he care was a very apt question.

The truth was, he both did and didn't know. Jounouchi elicited a strange mix of bitter yet comfortable nostalgia combined with a touch of self-righteousness. He saw the way that Jounouchi was, how he kept his head down sometimes, and felt the draw of kinship. Understanding. With Jounouchi of all people...but then, he'd felt that draw since the beginning of their first year of high school. Things were even more complicated back then.

But that didn't answer Mokuba's question. Why did he care? It felt multi-faceted. Did Mokuba mean why did he care for Jounouchi's well-being? Or why did he care for Jounouchi's existence? Maybe it was why did he care for what Jounouchi did to him in a blind moment of anger? Or was it as simple as: did he just care for Jounouchi, period.

Kaiba sighed. "I don't know."

—

On Friday, Jounouchi still hadn't returned to class. With a week left in the school year, the chances of him returning were slim. Unless he felt like dragging himself in for exams. Jounouchi never struck him as the type that was overly concerned about high school in general. There were bigger fish to fry, money to be made.

Kaiba could understand that. Deeply so.

That thought made his stomach clench as he stared at Jounouchi's desk. He wasn't hiding his glances anymore, either. He was too tired and out of it to hide his expression from his classmates. Though if any of them had paid attention in the three years since he'd started attending Domino High, they would have noticed his fixation.

It was unhealthy. It was unnatural. Anyone would have told him that he shouldn't be looking at the bleach blond boy who couldn't go a day without being late or getting a dress code infraction. But from day one, he'd been inexplicably drawn to Jounouchi.

After year one, he concluded it was the bruises.

The bruises painted stories on Jounouchi's body. Not the ones that he was proud of after socking some thug in the gut. The ones that he poked and prodded until he flinched. Until they bled. Until they stopped hurting.

There was nothing attractive about bruises. Just familiar. Close. Almost warm, in a messed up kind of way. He always watched Jounouchi for those bruises and wanted to ask, but could never find an approach. Kaiba Seto didn't approach a pleb like Jounouchi Katsuya and ask about bruises. It wasn't etiquette. They were rivals. Well, Jounouchi thought they were rivals. He was the prick, the weirdo, the bastard. Jounouchi was the idiot, the asshole, the stupid mutt.

Terms of endearment.

Kaiba hated that he cared so damn much. It didn't make any sense. Mokuba's question continued to ring in his head. It kept him up at night while he prodded at his nose. Why, why, why? He was confident that having his nose broken by the idiot was grounds for not lusting after him anymore.

Then he thought about the noodles.

The almost sweet taste of the oily broth as it clung to his lips and danced on his tongue. It was kind of terrible, in a good way. It was the blood, sweat, and tears of an apology laced with a sickly bittersweet taste of not enough salt. It hit him right where it should have. Possibly where Jounouchi wanted it to, to make him accept the half-assed apology. That was fine.

Jounouchi's continued absence wasn't.

At the end of the school day, as everyone packed up to leave, Kaiba stood and approached Yuugi.

Yuugi smiled. "Oh, hey there, Kaiba-kun. You're looking better."

"I'm fine."

"That's good," Yuugi said. He shoved his books into his bag. "What's up?"

"Where's Jounouchi?"

There was a still from the group. The friendship girl looked to the ground, and Honda clenched his fists. Of course, none of them would answer. "He's...he's at my place. He just got out of the hospital last night."

"I see."

"Did you—?" Yuugi began. Kaiba nodded. "Right. I figured you did. Everyone's sort of talking about it."

This was getting nowhere fast.

"I need to speak with him," Kaiba said. There was no point in beating around the bush. No matter how hard his heart pounded.

Honda sneered. "He's been through enough. He doesn't need to talk to _you_."

"I don't recall asking you."

"Oh yeah? Well what're you gonna do, make fun of him? He doesn't need your shit right now, you—,"

"Honda-kun!" Yuugi shouted. Honda flinched and looked away. "It's...it's alright. I think he's okay enough to talk. I mean, don't you? It's not like this is Kaiba-kun's fault. Maybe this is something Jou-kun needs. He's not talking to us, so...maybe this will be good for him. Aren't you worried?" Yuugi asked.

Honda looked off. "Yeah. A'course I am."

"And you're worried too, right?" Yuugi asked, turning to Kaiba.

"I just need to speak with him."

Though Yuugi said nothing, his face softened at the response. He nodded. "Then let's go. Maybe we can all study too, if Jou-kun is feeling up to it."

—

Kaiba offered them a ride to Kame Game, but said nothing the entire ride over. He steeled himself for what he was about to see. What damage was done to Jounouchi this time. It wouldn't be a black eye, a busted lip, or cut knuckles. Wishful thinking, of course, that Jounouchi had come out unscathed. He hadn't spent a week in the hospital if he was okay.

Sugoroku greeted them as they walked in. He cased Kaiba with a wary eye, but nodded as they headed upstairs.

The place was small. Even with an air conditioner humming it was humid. Sweat began to prickle on Kaiba's back.

"That you, Yuug'?"

Slow, gentle footsteps padded from the kitchen. One foot dragging behind the other. A small but subtle pain.

When he looked up, Jounouchi hung at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. What was left, anyways, after life had chewed him up and spit him out. Kaiba didn't want to look, but he was frozen in place.

There wasn't a patch of Jounouchi's tanned skin that was untouched. Most of him was wound tight in gauze: his legs beneath his knees, his arms up to the sleeves of an oversized t-shirt, and his hands...his wide hands, his calloused hands, his warm hands, were rigidly covered to the fingertips in thick swathes of gauze. What wasn't covered, like the skin of his thumbs, on his knees, or the bright red splotches on his cheeks masquerading as flush, were the gentlest of the burns.

"Kaib'? The hell ya doin' here?" Jounouchi asked.

The closer Jounouchi dragged himself, the more Kaiba realised he had more than burns. Burns made sense. There had been nothing left of the apartment. But the yellow-green spots around Jounouchi's eyes and jaw, and the cut on his cheek said it was more than a freak accident.

"You haven't been to class."

"No duh," Jounouchi snorted. His arms widened, but fell just as fast. Jounouchi winced. "Can't imagine why."

Yuugi, Honda, and Anzu slipped through the kitchen and into the living room, with Yuugi mentioning that they'd be nearby if he needed anything. There was a humbleness about Jounouchi when he muttered thanks. Still holding his pride as intact as he could.

"Whaddya want, Kaiba?"

"To talk," Kaiba said. He looked Jounouchi up and down again, continuing to catalogue his wounds. "You're wearing the school gym shorts."

Jounouchi's face fell. "S'all that I got left. Shirt's Honda's."

"You have yourself."

"I guess," Jounouchi agreed. He eased to the dining room table and sat, almost fell, into the chair. "Beats a blank."

Kaiba sat across from Jounouchi. So submissive. More than just hanging his head quietly in homeroom. He couldn't hide his eyes this time. His bangs were too singed. He heaved a sigh and leaned forward, moving his weight around so he didn't use arms or hands. Besides his thumbs, a single pinky on his left hand was uncovered. It curled into his palm.

"Whaddya want?" Jounouchi repeated.

Kaiba opened his mouth and closed it. "I wanted to make sure you weren't dead."

"Very funny."

"It's true."

"I figured it was. Jus' when ya put it that way," Jounouchi huffed and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Talk, Jounouchi," Kaiba commanded.

"Why?" Jounouchi leaned back, slow and steady, but kept his chin against his chest. "There's nothin' t' talk about. Nothing that would matter to you, at least. I...I don't...I mean, unless ya wanna hear 'bout what happened. But I don't really wanna talk about it right now. I don't remember it."

"There's always something to talk about."

"That's rich comin' from you. I can't even get ya t' talk about the weather."

Kaiba shrugged. "You didn't ask the right questions."

"I wasted my time."

"Oh?"

Jounouchi looked towards the kitchen window. Their classmates were filtering by in waves, running after one another to get to downtown. There was a cram school four blocks away, if Kaiba recalled. But Jounouchi was half-heartedly smiling.

"Yeah. I mean, after everythin' the most I got outta this was some stupid conversations and a fuckton of confusion, ya know? And to be honest, right now, I ain't too worried about you or what ya want. What I did. Whatever it is that we're doing right now, I mean—," Jounouchi voice was tickled with laughter, "—what the fuck are we doing?"

"Talking."

Jounouchi's nose curled. "I meant since we started all this. Since you decided to put your nose where it don't belong."

"Compared to the rest of the dweebs, I'm the only one qualified to put my nose anywhere."

"Lot of good it did ya," Jounouchi said. He raised his hand and wiped the exposed pinky down the bridge of his nose. The laughter still lingered, and Jounouchi laughed wide and loud. "Look at us. We're both so fucked up right now. We make a real odd couple, don't we?"

Kaiba's lips thinned. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, you do. Weirdo."

"Heh."

Kaiba crossed his arms. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because Jounouchi was so close to him, splayed across the table. His hands weren't hands, but the pinky was there.

"You came to the house," Jounouchi said. "Sorry ya had to deal with my old man. He didn't say anythin' too gross did he? Sometimes he doesn't have a filter with strangers."

"He was curious."

"What'd he ask?"

"How did I get the address. How did I know you and how long had we known each other. Things of that nature."

"What'd you say?" Jounouchi asked, his voice quivering.

It only hit Kaiba then that this may have been the cause of the not-accident. His stomach swirled violently and told him that, yes, this was his fault. If he hadn't decided to go to Jounouchi's home personally, this may not have happened. But he had to return the shirt and bowl. Jounouchi needed to know that he had accepted the apology, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to move on.

"Nothing. Your father doesn't strike me as the kind of person who listens to reason. No matter what I said, he would have taken it any way he wanted to take it."

Jounouchi's lips parted. "So he didn't ask you if we were...homo or whatever?"

"He may have."

"Did he or didn't he?" Jounouchi asked, his eyes burning bright. Before Kaiba could reply, he said, "Never mind. I don't wanna know. Knowing ain't gonna change what happened. I don't wanna think about my Pa that way. Ya know he ain't gonna make it?"

Kaiba stiffened.

It hadn't occurred to him that the reason that Jounouchi was staying with Yuugi was because his father was dead or dying.

"It's my fault."

"I doubt it."

"It is," Jounouchi pressed. He raised his hands. "We got in a fight over...us. Me an' you. Whatever. Before I knew it, the whole place was burnin' and I'd knocked him out and then didn't get him out fast enough. He's a big guy, you saw him."

The only thing Kaiba focused on were Jounouchi's hands. Shaking. Thumbs and pinky curling tight. Kaiba looked past Jounouchi's hands and to his face instead, to his stricken expression and his eyes brimming with tears he tried shaking away.

Jounouchi's arms fell to the table.

"Keep talking Jounouchi."

"What about?"

"Anything," Kaiba said. "Preferably your father."

"Ain't nothin' I wanna say about him. He's gonna die, school year's gonna end, and then I'm gonna go an' live with my mom 'til I'm okay enough to go and work in some factory. It's gonna suck movin' away from here. Her an' Shizuka live out in the middle of nowhere. I don't think anyone plays Magic and Wizards out there, so I'm gonna have to get a train pass an' make sure I come visit everyone. Yuugi especially. If he ain't too busy with college.

"You're not taking entrance exams?"

"Hell no. No point."

"Mm."

"Are you?" Jounouchi asked.

Kaiba smirked and leaned his cheek against his fist. "No point. I have work to focus on."

"Yeah. A'course," Jounouchi said.

A silence fell between them, with Jounouchi occasionally looking up at Kaiba with brows furrowed. His expressions were terse but kind. And now he wasn't holding onto his pride. It was falling apart piece-by-piece as he stifled back hiccups of tears and wiped his nose on his wrist.

Kaiba reached out and gently cupped his hand, barely touching the gauze. "Don't."

"Piss off."

"You'll get infected."

"What do you care?" Jounouchi asked. "Why the hell did ya get involved at all? Why did you give me the salve an'...an' wash my shirt?"

Jounouchi's arm was lowered to the table, though it didn't feel right to let go. He permeated heat like a stove. The pain must have been extraordinary, but Jounouchi held on. Always held on. Always held his head high, even as he fell apart.

"You're not that stupid."

"Spell it out for me."

Kaiba's eyes half-lidded. He reached out, his fingers dangerously close to the tips of Jounouchi's. There was no point in being afraid of this, even if his heart was pounding rapid-fire in his chest.

Cicadas clicked through the window.

Kaiba looped his pinky finger around Jounouchi's. The nail grazed along soft, tender skin on the inside. "You are not alone."

"No?"

"No. Unlike your friends, I understand what it means to hide. To be ashamed. To be confused."

The tiniest smile crossed Jounouchi's face. The bruises, the burns, didn't look as bad. They could get better. Time healed everything.

Jounouchi's pinky squeezed back. "Thanks."

There was no telling how long they sat looking at one another, sharing smiles and trying to talk but coming up short. Something tired and weak came over Jounouchi. Eventually, he slid further in his seat, but no matter how far he slipped, Kaiba didn't let go of the hold on his pinky. Laughter burst from the living room.

"Ya wanna go study with Yuug'? They're prolly waitin' on us," Jounouchi said. Kaiba groaned. "C'mon."

"Fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard XD I hope it came across as okay. 
> 
> This was for the prompt ‘burns’ for bad things happen bingo
> 
> One more chapter thingie to go!


	8. Part VIII

Jounouchi’s hands tucked deep into his coat pockets. November was cold up north, and the marbly pink and white skin on his hands was too tender in the frosty conditions. For the last three weeks, it had threatened to snow, but didn’t manage more than a spit of flurries.

It would happen soon, though. The graveyard would be covered in snow, and the flowers on the headstones would die.

The Jounouchi family plot wasn’t large. A cluster of little headstones in a far corner of the cemetery with just enough room for him to squat down, and then fall onto his butt, as he knelt to pray. His Old Man deserved as much. It was only a few sentimental words, little else. A thought that someone cared.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he muttered when he opened his eyes. “I don’t get it.” 

But he had to bite back tears. He’d been healing from far more than the burns. Ever since Kaiba sat down with him in Yuugi’s kitchen and said he wasn’t alone. That he understood. He said it so easily, like it didn’t weigh on his chest, but it had to. It wasn’t like Kaiba had been dancing around homeroom announcing his own abuse. 

He was weird and angry, though. Maybe those signs should have been more obvious, but he’d been so fucking obnoxious before. He still was, but Jounouchi made himself look past it now, for the sake of...whatever was going on.

The prayers stopped when he heard Kaiba’s footfall. He was done, and should have left, but he stayed sitting. His knees, and the new skin around them, hurt to bend. He was fine sitting. It meant that Kaiba would have to wait more.

“Fancy meetin’ ya here,” Jounouchi joked when he felt Kaiba behind him. “Ain’t exactly a date place.” 

“We’re on a date?” 

“I don’t know, are we?” 

“Depends on your definition of date,” Kaiba said. 

Jounouchi shrugged. “I think ya gotta be in a relationship first, don’t ya?” 

“Depends on your definition of a relationship.” 

Yeah, Kaiba was a little weird. And still not forward, either. At least, not on everything. It was sort of in the way that he still lingered like a shadow behind Jounouchi but retained his annoyed expression. He didn’t say why, and Jounouchi didn’t ask. The truth was, Jounouchi only pretended to understand their strange bond, their unlikely kinship of misery; it was difficult to wrap his head around the fact that someone like Kaiba made him hard sometimes.

“Are you done?” Kaiba asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. Had my...therapy for the day.” 

Jounouchi staggered to his feet, grabbing Kaiba’s proffered hand. He didn’t let go as they walked through the cemetery, but loosened until only their pinkies hooked together. 

He only felt comfortable with Kaiba touching his hands. He wasn’t averse to hand-holding, though he was self-conscious at times. It was nice of his mother and sister to redress his burns, and nice when his friends offered theirs as he coped with the mountain of weird feelings and emotions that came from unpacking....everything. A universe’s closet full of problems. Washed in lavender-lilac detergent. But Kaiba’s was different. Neutral and passive. Comfortable.

Kaiba wasn’t waiting for him to unpack anything. He didn’t question why Jounouchi sat in the middle of a graveyard every time he caught the train back to Domino. It was the first thing he did when he got there, and Kaiba always met him. It was all part of the process, and Kaiba, he assumed (because seven months of whatever the hell this thing between them was) was understanding. 

It was the only thing he had been forward on, after all.

At the edge of the cemetery, Jounouchi took his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. A sleek, black limousine was waiting for them. 

“Cold?” Kaiba asked. 

“Just my hands.”

“The skin is seven months old, technically.” 

Jounouchi chuckled. “That’s one way t’ look at it.” 

“Newer if you ever get grafts.” 

“Nah, I like ‘em. Kinda. It’s like growth an’ shit.” Jounouchi wasn’t sure how smart it was to think of it that way. He could feel Kaiba side-eyeing him, incredulous. “Still cold though.” 

Kaiba hummed for half a second before leaning in and wrapping his arm around Jounouchi’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. It was dizzying, and Jounouchi craned his neck to look Kaiba in the eye to protest. 

He didn’t get the chance. 

Kaiba’s lips crushed against his, and all sense of time and space was lost. Whatever hit Jounouchi could have probably been called euphoria, not that he knew, but his heart was racing while he leaned into the sloppy, nervous kiss, trying to adjust so they weren’t just a few centimetres off and Kaiba wasn’t kissing his teeth. 

When they parted, they stared at each other. Pink blotched on Kaiba’s face, and there was a pregnant beat of silence. 

Jounouchi snickered. “So...”

“Yes?” 

“That was...” 

“Yeah,” Kaiba agreed, breathless. “It was.” 

Discomfort struck Jounouchi amidst his euphoria. He was under a microscope, and while nobody was passing by, there were thousands and thousands of eyes in the cemetery, his father included. His heart throbbed and his throat swelled. 

“I...I dunno if I’m okay for any o’ this,” he said. His chin hit his chest. “Not yet. There’s so much still happenin’ Kaib’, I—“ 

Kaiba cupped the back of Jounouchi’s head and pressed the blond into his shoulder. The heat, the touch, the smell of him was solid and real; an anchor in a weird, fleshy body. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Yeah?” Jounouchi asked. The embrace tightened, and like a heartbeat he reminded himself: Kaiba understood, Kaiba understood,  _Kaiba understood._ His heart settled, and his throat eased up into a long, relieved sigh. This would just take time.

Slowly, confidently, he answered himself, “Yeah. Okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn’t intended for this to turn into anything. It has, and I’m sad to see it end. Had to get sappy, and I did ;3 there’s def an uncertainty, but....make of that what you will. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Tell me what you think! 
> 
> And see you in the next story.


End file.
